Assassin in Disguise
by The Eternal Good
Summary: Young Sofia Bright is a gifted and aspiring Assassin-to-be, or will she? After she discovers the only man who can teach her the trade is the Templar Grand Master, her conscience is torn between what she must do and what she wants to do. Rating will probably change.
1. The Beginning is the End

"The only victories which leave no regret are those which are gained over ignorance."

~~Napoleon~~

Hundreds of screams awakened the unusually dark night. Muffled footsteps turned into loud thumps and the icy sound of steel was soon accompanied by the deadly rings of wet stabs into flesh. Though I could not reach the area of despair, I recognized every sound like no other. We were too late. A faint smell of fire already penetrated my nostrils and only a few seconds later the fire was starting to arise above the trees, as though it tried to emblazon itself on the dark frame of the night. Commanding my horse into a gallop, I sprinted towards the hill which I knew to be no further than a furlong away. The poor horse neighed in protest, not keen onto running towards dangerous fire, but it obeyed nonetheless. His feet thundering upon the grassy road offered a relieving alternative to the horrifying sounds not far away. Permitting myself to glance behind me for a split second, I found my comrades tailing us towards the top of the hill. Earning their malicious glares, I knew the devastation of my birth village would not be the only prize I had to pay for my reckless behaviour of late. Pulling the graceful animal to a halt, I could see at last what the true destruction will be. Tears ran down soundlessly from my cheek. What have I done? How had I become so incompetent that I was willing to risk my family, although not by blood, but by heart, and all the precious moments I could have shared with them? If I had not been so careless...

'Let me help them,' I stated resolutely, trying to sound firmer than I felt, but it was nothing more than a weak attempt.

'There's nothing you can do any more, I'm afraid,' he stated matter-of-factly, 'We are fiercely outnumbered.' By the sound of it, he had decided not to punish me, for he deemed the wreckage of the village punishment enough.

'Outnumbered perhaps, but I outrank them in skill,' I tried, eyeing my inscrutable leader carefully. His brown eyes met my green ones, and, although the anger was still evident in his eyes, there was definitely a hint of compassion as well.

'I do not question your skill, Sofia. I merely doubt your state of mind.' BR 'Haytham, I can assure you...'

'No, you can assure me nothing.' My heart cringed somewhat from his harsh words. My look flinched back towards the excruciating scene in front of us. The men were shot down, their lack of gunpowder allowing them no chance against the Patriotic army. Women were taken captive, and the ones who tried to resist were shot down as well. Some held baby's to their breasts, trying to shield them from the fire and the visions of their dead fathers. I heard Haytham sigh next to me, drawing my attention back to him.

'We _shall _rescue the women and children later on. But for the men, there's nothing we can do.' His voice sounded reassuring again, comforting even . I nodded, unable to speak any longer, due to the sudden lump in my throat.

´Good,´ he murmered softly, throwing one final glance at the village before returning to me. ´Come now, we must not linger. Let us return to the safety of the fortress.´ Haytham waited for me to turn my horse around, anticipating every foolish move I could make if he lost sight of me. Instead of arguing with him, which I normally did, I did what he asked of me and motioned the horse to the path again. Fearing the judgment and scorn of the rest of the Templars more than ever, I dared not to look at Charles nor William, the only two remaining leaders of the Order. Instead, I nudged the flanks of the stallion gently, guiding him into a fast gallop toward the fortress we came from. The line of sight was already broken when I heard the last, heart tearing scream of a woman very close to my heart, the Clan Mother and then the unforgivable ringing of rifle, silencing the cry and all that was audible to me.


	2. Wakasanonni kashierite

**Author's note: before I start the second chapter of my story, I'd like to say that the story may seem a bit difficult to understand, because I love to play with time in my stories, but I promise to keep it simple the first few chapters. This chapter contains an introduction, just to know what drives her to become what she will become and to get to know her a little bit better. Enjoy!**

Wakasanonni kashierite

I can recall the first time I heard the mention of the word 'Assassin' as clear as if it were yesterday. Then, I had no idea that a single word would form such a drastic part of my life. Now, I wish I could turn back time with the knowlegde I have been cursed with ever since. I should have backed away, away from trouble, from death and despair. Of course, I can't say it only produced regrets, but regrets were the majority of its production.

I have grown up in a village not far from New York, in the frontier that lies on the outskirt of the city. Born to an English refugee, she gave birth to me in the only village willing to take in a woman so desperately looking for a place to belong. It were the Natives who granted her that place. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, she was given the opportunity to raise her child within the loving borders of the tribe. That is were she taught me the English language, while the Natives taught me their own. A particularly blonde girl with an English skin in Native clothes speaking the Mohawk language must have been an extraordinary sight for every trader or merchant to look at. The men brought me flowers, toys from the city, but I wasn't interested in those items. When I grew older, a somewhat younger merchant (or at least, that's what I thought he was at that time)had the nerve to bring me something peculiar, or at least for a girl. Seeing me playing with the boys rather than the girls, the man purchased me an expensive looking sword, produced especially for smaller people. It felt like I had finally found the right toy and, much to the dislike of the men and women of the tribe, particularly my mother, I also found that I was rather gifted with the pointy weapon. Although I was only able to practice when the merchant was around, because the men of the tribe thought it inappropriate for a woman to wield a blade, I was a quick student. When the men at last accepted me to be a bit manly in my ways, the merchant brought me another gift, his final present as it seemed later. I reckon I was about 10 years old, an age he deemed old enough to be suitable of telling an important secret. I can't recall every little detail of the scene, but he gave me a small wooden box, no larger than my hand, and told me to open it after my fifteenth birthday and that the artifact within would lead me to him. After that comment, I should have known he would not come back to me any more, perhaps I was too young to recognize the pain in his voice. Having no mother to look out for me any more, I hid the box carefully and did what he asked - back then I was young and more conforming when it came to requests. It had taken an enormous amount of effort not to open it, but when the day had come, the first thing I did that day was to open that mysterious little box. First I had to excavate it from the earth I had once put it in, but when I had done that...

I turned the box over, side to side, examining it closely for the first time. It seemed as though I viewed it for the first time, so differently it appeared in my memory. Strange how the brain can transform even the mere memory of a wooden box, which I thought I knew every curve, every piece of wood, into something completely divergent as it once seemed. The box was indeed wooden, but had a slight hint of red to it. It must have been expensive, particularly with the rich emblem carved on top of the upper lid. The emblem was one I had never seen before. Tracing my finger along the smooth curves, I vaguely recognized an A in it, but without streak connecting the steep lines. The gift itself helped no further to solve the mystery. It seemed like some piece of armor, judging from the size it should fit around a woman's wrist. Picking it up, I noticed it was decorated with the same emblem on the box. It consisted out of two parts, one with the emblem on it and supposedly it belonged on top of the wrist, and a slightly heavier part, which was to be wrapped underneath the wrist and onto the upper part. Weighing the smaller, but heavier part, I soon discovered it was heavier for a reason. Small as it was, it contained the most important part of the construction: a sharp blade was concealed in a soft piece of leather. The leather looked fresh and still smelled like cow.

'Sofia?'

Startled as I was, I knocked the box from my lap. Although I already knew the source of my shock, I searched for its eyes while hiding the little thing with my foot. Shoving the weapon behind my back, I softly scolded the young boy for interrupting me.

'Ratonhnhaké:ton, what have I told you?' But he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed with my distant behaviour.

'Ratonhnhaké:ton, I warn you not to follow me on my birthday, I want to be left alone,' he mimicked me, speaking in a particularly high-pitched voice. His own voice was at the point of breaking, giving his strange act a funny sound. 'You're no fun, Sofia,' he continued in his own voice. Folding his arms, he gave me a defiant look. Torn between giving him a snarky remark, and keeping my newly aqcuired weapon a secret, I eventuelly softened toward the too curious boy.

'If you give me a moment, I'll be ready in a minute,' I said in a friendly tone, giving him my brightest smile. Unfortunately, Ratonhnhaké:ton was the only male I couldn't fool so easily. Partly because he knew me too well, but also partly because he was extremely perceptive. With his eyes, at least. His defiant features suddenly vanished, as his eyes followed the arm I held behind my back. His dark eyes gleamed with curiousity, and with curiousity came a borderless recklesness.

'What are you hiding?' he demanded, and his feet slowly guided him in my direction. Ugh, I had always known the boy was trouble...

'Nothing,' I answered too quickly, but the mere fact I was still helding my arm behind me betrayed my words. But what could I do? If the Clan Mother knew I held an unknown weapon in my possession, it would be taken away from me. Something that would surely happen if her grandson knew of my secret. But why was I so attached to a weapon I could not yet wield? Somehow I had the feeling this... blade was the beginning of something new, something adventurous. It had to mean something. But what? That I did not know, but I was more than eager to find out. And I could not let the Clan Mother's grandson, the boy she had once given me the responsibility for when we were young and both made motherless, spoil my exciting adventure.

'Oh'kwa:ri! Oh'kwa:ri' Men were shouting all around the village. The shouting was followed by heavy footsteps rushing through dry leaves which were, all too unfortunate, approaching us fast and steadily.

We had little time to register the words as we heared a bear roar a little distance from us. Staring wide eyed at each other for a moment, as though we were trying to process the newcoming and fast approaching danger. In the spur of the moment, I revealed the blade, considering if it was strong enough to kill the beast before it could kill us. It probably could, but I lacked the experience it required and there was no time I could strap it on my wrist before the bear found us. Rendering it useless for now, I tossed it in a nearby bush.

'What are you doing?' hissed the boy, who was visibly torn between running away and staying with me. He knew I would protect him at all cost, but was I able to slay a bear?

'I'm trying to save your arse, Ratonhnhaké:ton' I whispered fiercely at him. The bear could outrun us with us, so running was not an option. I scanned the area and found a perfect tree to climb in. The half Native followed my gaze, and without waiting for my order, he quickly sprinted into the tree.

'How are your aiming skills nowadays?' I questioned, forming a plan to kill the beast once and for all. He had killed one of our own a month ago, probably out of fear, but the bear was too dangerous towards men. Who knew who was next?

Ratonhnhaké:ton fell silent, trying to follow my train of thought. 'Are you out of your mind?' he exclaimed angrily as soon as he understood. 'Do you know no fear?'

'Perhaps I don't,' I hissed back, motioning him to take his bow. The thumping of a heavy, galloping animal approached quickly, giving the young boy no further chance to argue. I held my breath for a moment, sharpening my senses to the dangerous beast. I could already see the contour of it in the bushes, and its figure grew larger and larger. Ratonhnhaké:ton cursed softly in our mother tongue, but readied himself for the aim. Until then my head had been clear, knowing precisely what to do to kill the animal. But now it was coming closer and closer, my courage weakened. To judge from the size of it, it was definitely a male bear. When it caught sight of it, its pace slowed, finally finding a target to pursue. The bear was majestic, tall and incredibly muscled. If it hadn't been for the sharp claws and strong jaw plus teeth, I could have praised it only for its beauty.

'Ready when you are,' I said, hoping my voice would lessen the bears aggression. Some animals didn't mind human presence, as long as they could hear where you are.

'One moment,' whispered the boy, his voice retrained from the effort to pull the string on the bow. 'It has to come closer, the trees are blocking my sight.'

Before I could scold him for being a lousy hunter (you're a hunter, the trees are always in your sight!), the bear leapt closer, making me jump back in reflex. I reached for the dagger I kept on my belt, but knew the bear could crush my bones sooner than I could plunge the dagger in its throat. The bear stopped, only a few feet distanced the space between the large animal and me. It could destroy me with one slash of its paw, one bite with his razor sharp teeth. But it didn't. Instead, it stared me curiously in the eye. And I couldn't help but stare back. Why did it not kill me? Was it waiting for the right moment? But there couldn't be a better moment for it than this. It moved its snout to the side, as though it considered me for a moment. The fear I had felt for this animal had reduced to a minimum. Curiosity had replaced the fear and I became mesmerized by the giant, brown eyes of the creature in front of me. It tilted its head, like an invitation for me to reach my hand to its snout. I stretched my arm to it, but before I could reach it...

The sound of a snapping string and a loud growl snapped me back to reality. Ratonhnhaké:ton had aimed it in its eye, and succeeded. With another loud thump, the animal once so strong, fell helplessly to the ground and died instantly. But instead of feeling relieved, I felt horrible. Grief washed over me as I knelt down beside the dead body. Stroking the thick fur, I heared Ratonhnhaké:ton's feet land down behind me.

'It almost killed you, Sofia. Why grieve over its death?'

Cocking my head back, I glared at the boy.

'Every end of a life is worth grieving for. Whether it is a friend or a foe. And perhaps, most of the time the line isn't easily drawn. The bear did what it had to do to survive. Did it deserve to die because of that?'

The Clan Mother's grandson considered this for a moment.

'We all do whatever it takes to survive. Only you or the bear could live. The rest doesn't matter.'

Perhaps it didn't. My head felt a little light and my thoughts were getting clouded. Thankfully it didn't take long for the soldiers of the village to track down the mortal roar of the beast.

_' What were you thinking?_' the chief of war questioned us. '_Sofia, Ratonhnhaké:ton is your responsibility, what if he were killed?'_

I, as the elder of the two, am always assumed to know best. I exchanged a desperate look with the 12-year old boy. He sighed softly before addressing the furious man.

_'I'm sorry, it was my fault,' _he began. _'Sofia only tried to rescue us from the bear, and as you can see, she did a good job_.' He gestured toward the fallen bear. Witty as he was, he didn't dare to bother them with details, afraid the lie might be detected.

The chief gave me a stern look before examining the beast. '_Is that your arrow, Ratonhnhakéton?' _he said. He made no attemption to hide his admiration for the boy.

'_It sure is_,' confirmed Ratonhnhaké:ton, smirking widely. Some approving mumbling followed, giving him the opportunity to murmer in my ear: 'I'd like to know what you were hiding earlier in exchange for my help.' He murmered out of habit, the tribe did not understand English anyway.

I rolled my eyes. Of course Ratonhnhaké:ton did not just help me for its own sake, he helped me because he wanted to know something.

'I'll tell you later, now is not the time,' I whispered back, nodding towards the men. Before he could agree, I turned my attention to the weapon. Where did I put it? Ah, yes, the bush where I was sitting. I tiptoed to the bush, Ratonhnhaké:ton followed in my wake, something I was not particularly fond of. 'Stay with the soldiers,' I ordered, earning myself a glare from the boy, but he obeyed still. I regained my present sooner than I had thought, including the box it came with. I crouched down to pick the wooden thing up, and opened it to check if it was dirty. It was then I realised there was something else beside the blade itself that the merchant had wanted to give me. A little piece of paper contained a small note that would change my life forever.

_'Search for me in the city of New York. Look out for men in white robes: show them this blade and they will bring you to me. Be careful with it, it's a sign you belong to the Assassin Brotherhood, as so do I. Your father, Jonathan Bright.'_


	3. Chapter 3

**It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves - William Shakespeare**

´Sofia!´

Oh no. Pretend you haven´t heard him, Sofia, move on, and quickly!

´Sofia, wait, please! Where are you going?'

Too perceptive, that boy was. I've told you...

The rustling sound of breaking twigs and cracking leaves came closer. He deserved a proper goodbye after all the years I cared for him, looked out for him, fed him, taught him to read, to write, how to wield a bow... pretty much everything, honestly. I gave up avoiding him, and waited for him to catch up.

'What is it, Ratonhnhaké:ton?' I asked, watching the boy carefully. His cheeks were glowing red from the exercise, his eyes were widened in surprise, as if he had seen a spirit recently.

'You're leaving me, aren't you?' His voice cracked slightly and tears were starting to form in his eyes.

'I'm not leaving you per sé, I want to find my father,' I said, rather annoyed with his attitude. True, I was feeling bad about this, but he certainly didn't help the matter at all.

'Your father?' I had awoken his curiosity now. Looking at his pleading eyes, I knew I had to tell him the truth. I sighed, motioning him to sit down on the nearest trunk.

'Do you remember the man who used to trade fur in the village, and taught me how to wield a blade?' It didn't take him long to recall the man.

'You mean the tall blonde man, one of Johnson's men?' he asked, referring to the wealthy merchant who had been trading with the tribe for many years. The man pretty much owned the Valley, with a Johnson Fort, Johnson Hill, Johnson Mountain... The man didn't possess much creativity. But he was a valued friend of the Mohawk, always giving presents to the most prominent families and thus ensuring his friendship with the tribe. And he was the only merchant who spoke our native language, giving him an extra edge to win the favour of our people.

'Yes, that's the one,' I said, smiling when I remembered the strange, mysterious, blonde stranger. While it is custom for my people to give women a better education than the men, because the women were to lead the tribe, that education didn't include a blade and a bow. While reading was women only, fighting was men's privilege. However, I didn't care much for reading, economics and leading the people. All I wanted was to wield a blade perfectly, to gain muscle so I could beat every man at wrestling. But through the customs of the Mohawk, I was not allowed to follow my dreams. Until that man came along and took the responsibility to train me. Oh, how I loved my training sessions, and how much I missed them when he left. But that didn't matter now, I would find him again, sooner or later.

'How do you know how to find him?' Well, that was a crucial question indeed. With only a few instructions, it could take months, years even, to find him.

'I - I'm not sure. He left me a present and a note, but I do not know what to make of it.'

Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned in deep thought. 'Do you mean the present you didn't want to show me last year?' he asked, a slight hint of accusation in his voice.

I rolled my eyes, pulling down the sleeve of my right wrist.

'Wow, what is that?' The boy hovered over my arm, examining the blade with fierce attention.

'I've found out it is a shield and a blade in one,' I said, showing him the blade side of the weapon. With a slight movement of my wrist, I activated the mechanism and the blade came out of its shell with a loud _swung_. The boy backed away a few inches in surprise, but when the moment of surprise was over, he couldn't get his eyes off the small but razorsharp blade.

'I want one too!' he exclaimed ecstatically.

'I don't know if there are more of them, but it said it was a sign that I belonged to the 'Assassin Brotherhood',' I said, retracting the blade, once again gaining Ratonhnhaké:ton's attention.

'Assassin Brotherhood?' he asked quizzically.

'I know, it raises more questions than it answers, doesn't it?' We smiled sympathically at each other for a moment, knowing the time was about to come I had to leave.

'The note also stated I had to find him in New York, and to look for men in white robes,' I sighed, realising the total hopelessness of my journey. But if my father had given me those hints, they must be powerful ones, right?

'New York is one big city,' stated the boy, remaining in thought for a moment.

'I know,' I whispered.

'Sofia, Ratonhnhaké:ton?' a distant voice called out for us. They were missing us already.

'Shit, I have to leave now,' I said, jumping on my feet immediately. The boy followed my action, staring toward the source of the voice.

'Will we see each other again, Sofia?' He broke his gaze to look at me pleadingly.

'Of course we will,' I said comfortingly, but then, I wouldn't know just how soon I was going to see him. I gave him one last hug, a hug I saw as our last one, and started to leave.

'Sofia, wait, just one more thing!'

Yes, Ratonhnhaké:ton?' I said impatiently, eyeing him with frustration written all over my face.

'If you manage to find my father, will you let me know?'

Of course, I could have waited for this question. But what were the chances I would find his father in search of mine? However, how could I answer negatively when looking in his big, brown, hopeful eyes? Instead, I smiled and said:

'Of course I will, Ratonhnhaké:ton. What was his name again?'

'Haytham Kenway, mother told me he's from England, a big, muscled man with superior fighting skills.' The boy smiled upon the thought, probably picturing a white, adult version of himself with broad shoulders and matching smile. Oh that Kanietí:io, always exaggerating good stories to make her son feel better.

'How can I forget. I'll let you know. For now, take care Ratonhnhaké:ton!'

With that, I climbed in a tree and flew from branch to branch, closing the distance with each step between my father and me.

*** Author's note: I've had the chance to investigate the Mohawk Indians and the real 'Templars' the last few weeks, and have decided to include some real historical details about them. Sometimes, these details do not match the AsC story, but I prefer the more complicated real storyline. And, of course, because I believe most AsC fans love different cultures (why else would you want to play such different characters? ;) I will include some historical facts about the Mohawk culture too.


	4. You only live once

Author's note: before I start the chapter, I'd like to note that it starts after the _first _chapter. With that, I need to stress it might be a confusing chapter, for I don't mean to stress the romance in the story, but more the adventure and the drama. But sometimes love is all the drama you need. And Sofia is only human and has to love someone, doesn't she? Enjoy!

"**You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." ~~ Mae West**

´Sofia?'

Since the massacre on my village, all I wanted to be is alone. Alone, means myself in the company of various animals. Their presence seemed to soothe me, ease the pain in my heart and fill the enormous hole in there, if it were only temporary.

'Sssst, Mr. Spada, do not let him know where we are,' I whispered softly to the small, but extremely hairy pomerian. Its brown eyes stared at me, as though it understood. This time I had found peace in the stables of Charles Lee's horses, and practically kidnapped his precious dog for a moment. Or two. The horse didn't mind my intrusion of his box, and stared at me whilst grinding the hay between his teeth. The dog wagged its tail, nudging its snout under my arm. It was its way of asking permission to snuggle underneath my arms and on my lap. I smiled, granting the dog his will as I rose my arm. The animal was warm and soft, and it relaxed my nerves instantly.

'Sofia, I know you are in here,' a rather annoyed Haytham announced. 'Do you want me to check every box?'

I rolled my eyes, knowing I'd better call out to him. Agitating Haytham is truly not the best idea.

'I'm here, Haytham,' I said, petting the dog through its long hair. It closed its eyes contently. I secretly wished men were just as easy to please as their canine counterparts. And certainly one man in particular.

'Why you don't get along with Charles has been a complete mystery to me,' said Haytham, closing the heavy steel door behind him as he entered the box. The horse rose his head to meet the tall man, and Haytham pet the white animal in response.

'The fact that we both love animals doesn't mean we see eye to eye. He is not a good man,' I responded, watching the Grand Master carefully as he sat down on the straw covered floor with a weary look. I've avoided Haytham the last month, hoping to postpone his speech. Frankly, I had no idea what he had prepared for me. Never before had I failed him to this extent. Never had I betrayed his, normally, fragile trust. Perhaps that was another reason I avoided him: I'll never forget his face when we arrived at Fort Johnson after the attack. He couldn't look at me, but when he did, he simply could not hide the disappointment he felt. I did truly hurt him. And in effect, that hurt me.

I fiddled with my ring as I waited for Haytham to scold me or defend Charles, like he always did. The silver ring on my right ring finger had been made especially for my inauguration as a Master Templar, engraved with blood red rubies to form the Templar cross. And now I was waiting for Haytham to take back my position, losing everything I had worked so hard for.

'Whether he is a good man or not is not for you to decide,' reproached Haytham, folding his arms over his chest.

I was about to make a sassy remark, but bit my tongue. Instead, I studied the Grand Master's features for any signs that might make me more aware of his intentions. Up until now, his face had been completely neutral, but the growing smirk told me to relax somewhat.

'What is it, have you lost your tongue?' he teased, knowing all too well I'd like to discredit his second hand whenever I have the chance.

'We both know you haven't come to sit in a horse stable just to discuss Charles his morality,' I said. I couldn't postpone it any longer. My nerves were going to be the death of me if he didn't tell me his final judgment. My hands were starting to tremble, earning me an accusing look from Mr. Spada. Resting my head on the cold wall behind me, I gave Haytham a confident look, trying to mask any feeling that was boiling on the inside. Fear, regret, utter hopelessness and a new sense of loneliness. And Haytham….

'No, I haven't,' he confirmed. He stared down for a moment, as though he were searching for words. Haytham did not know what to say. Well, that was something I'd never seen. 'How are you?' he concluded, his expression a mixture of forced seriousness and true sympathy. I snorted loudly in response, ridiculing his question.

'How did you feel, one month after you'd witnessed your father's death, the kidnap of your sister, the murder of your staff and the flames raising from your place of birth?' I snapped, temporarily forgetting my awful position. 'And on top of that, what was it like for you when you found out it was your own mentor who killed your father?'

Haytham's eyes grew smaller. ' You can't keep throwing your father's death in my face every time I'm angry with you, Sofia. I've told you of his death several years ago to relieve myself from the feelings of guilt, and here you are exploiting them.'

'Tell me then, after all those years of your father's passing and your knowledge of Birch betrayal, did it ever stop nagging? Did you never wonder what your life would be like with him, if he hadn't been taken so soon? Did you never wish you could see him one last time, just to be with him? Did the void he left behind ever fill, making you feel less empty inside? And since the brutal slaughter of the people I grew up with, I feel as though my heart has been ripped out of my body.' The pitch of my voice was getting higher and higher. All the while the Grand Master remained calm, but his pouted lips told me he was not pleased with my temper. Considering me for a moment, he decided to hoist himself up, straighten his clothes and lean against the wooden wall. This way he could look down on me, which made me feel really uncomfortable.

´There are many possible paths to walk in your life. No matter the amount of choices you have, you can only choose one. Sometimes that path turned out to be bumpier than you had expected, longer perhaps. And all too often you had wished you´d taken another split in your path. Sometimes you find yourself lost and unable to follow the lines. Then you start looking over your shoulder and you see things that cannot be unseen. Those events will dwell in your heart forever, making it impossible for you to journey on.´ The tall man had moved closer to me, which gained the distrust of my little friend on my lap. It started to growl, but Haytham ignored the dog. He offered me his hand to stand up. I took it without hesitation, a move I would regret one moment later. He did not just pull me on my feet, he also pulled me closer to him, so close that our chests touched. The hair on my arms and on the back of my neck rose, making me shiver all over my body. Releasing my hand, he put one hand on my back to bring me even closer and another to my ear, where he stroke the hair away to gain access to whisper in my ear. He deliberately touched my ear and neck softly, touches I, to my own disgust, have to admit I enjoyed. When he brought his lips to my ear and grazed the delicate skin, I couldn´t help but whimper. I brought my hands to his chest for support, because my shakes legs were no longer trustworthy.

´Some people linger in their emotions,´ he began softly, while his left hand travelled slowly to my neck. ´Those are the ones who will die full of regret. But there are other who, though the pain in the heart remains, learn to find their path again and to look forward, always. It is not easy, and there are moments the heartache will prevail, but even then, we must carry on.´ His hand traced its way to my head, playing with my hair softly as he spoke. ´That is one of the two lessons I have for you today.´

´What is the other?' I asked foolishly, taking in the musky scent of the bare skin of his neck. I felt his lips twitch into a smirk, sending a hint of fear down my spine. His grasp on my hair strengthened, which caused me to whimper, but this time from pain.

'Don't you _ever _dare to disobey my orders again. If you do, I'll hunt you down personally and don't think your death will be a comfortable one.' Now I was slowly becoming aware of his right hand. It had found its way to my throat, and the fingers encircled my throat. He could kill me before I had the chance to bring my own blade into combat. Mr. Spada began to bark and jump against the Grand Master, but to no avail. He kicked the dog back, causing the small animal to shriek in pain.

'Haytham, don't,' I croaked, feeling the cold wall behind my back. I started to breathe heavily, fighting against the cold grip around my throat.

'Don't what?' he asked rather amusedly.

'Don't kill me,' I begged. This caused Haytham to leave my ear for what it was and, whilst pushing my back against the will with his own body, started to stare me in the eyes. I tried to avoid his gaze, but his other hand grabbed my chin to steer it in his direction. His eyes were the coldest I had ever seen.

'Do you fear me, Sofia?'

'Yes,' I breathed without thinking. That, and a lot other things too.

'Good. I thought that, when we met for the first time, I'd already given you a preview of what would happen once you betrayed me. Don't make me kill you, not just for your own sake, but for mine also.'

With that, he released my aching throat, allowing me to breath normally again. Caressing his hand along the red marks, as if he tried to make an apologizing gesture, he stepped back to allow me more space.

'Charles always said you'll be trouble. Too beautiful, too manipulative, too smart. I wish he was wrong, but you keep proving him right.' I stared at him, not knowing where he was going to. It seemed he had no point to make, or perhaps it was a point in itself. Turning his back on me, he opened the box and gestured me to leave before he did. I obeyed without question, though I had preferred loneliness above his company for the moment. Tears were starting to draw closer, and I did not want him to see me cry.

We walked towards the chambers in silence, except the tripling sound of Mr. Spada and our own feet, and when he passed his own room to stay beside me, I told him I could find my room without his help rather boldly. He ignored my statement, probably hearing the anxiety in my voice, and opened the door to the hallway.

'Thank you,' I said softly, taking the chance to gain some advantage on him. But when I reached the door to my room, he blocked the entrance easily by extending his arm over the doorpost. The sudden closeness made me flinch, staring at him in fear. It made Haytham sigh in annoyance. He gave me a tired look.

'Don't fear me if there is nothing to fear from me,' he said, motioning me to come closer. I stepped closer hesitantly. I have learned to trust him completely the past 8, 9 years. But all that trust had been thrust away in merely 5 minutes. I crossed my arms over my chest in a protective manner and stopped when there was barely space between us left. I raised my chin to look him in the eyes defiantly.

We stared in each other's eyes, both looking for answers we could not find. What did he want from me? Did he truly expect me to forget his fingers around my throat? The mere idea of it made me nauseous to the core of my body. When he raised his hand to touch my lips I did not dare to cringe from the contact. The soft stroke was probably meant as a reconciling gesture, but all I wanted was for him to disappear and leave me be.

'I want to see you in the morning. I've got a mission for you you're yearning to accomplish.'

'What do you know about my yearnings, Haytham?' I spat back, shoving his hand from my face. But he smiled and leaned closer once again.

'Enough,' he said, before turning away. 'Have a good night, although you most likely won't.'

God, how I hated his guts. Groaning, I opened the door, but before I could enter I heard Haytham one last time:

'You ought to bring that thing back to Charles, don't you?'

'What I ought to do and what I want to do, are two very different things.' I scooped Spado in my arms before giving the Templar one last glare, and shut the door behind me violently, turning in for a sleepless night.

**P.S.: I like reviews, but I'm not that kind of person who answers them in the chapter. I think that is just silly and distracting from the story. Just know I take advice with me while writing a chapter **


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